Slowly, and then All At Once
by Naite-Laef
Summary: "He wants sex, he needs sex, but he doesn't know if he can truly do it. But he will try. He will try anything for Katara." Katara and Zuko take a big step in their relationship. It's not perfect, but neither are they. Modern AU. TW: Rape and Child Abuse.
1. Her

Katara initiates the kiss, just like she always does.

It takes a moment, but when she has her arms wrapped around Zuko's neck, she feels some of the tension leave his shoulders. A shy hand comes to rest on her hip, the light touch just enough to warm her heart. Katara snuggles a little closer to her boyfriend, his red blanket bunching up beneath their huddled forms. She feels the shallow movements of his mouth against hers, nervous and uncertain, so she presses her tongue past the slight opening between his lips. And while he opens his mouth more to let her in, his own tongue doesn't seem to remember how to move.

The kiss is slow and still somewhat uncoordinated, but he's improved a lot with how much practice she's been giving him lately. They're not moving quite in sync, but this is Zuko. This is the boy she loves, and she will always be patient with him. He's learning, slowly but surely, and she knows he'll be a fantastic kisser one day.

Her concentration falters as she finally loses herself in his embrace, her emotions fully guiding her actions. She slides one hand down the side of his neck, down to his racing heart. At the innocent touch, she can practically feel his self-awareness jolt to life, because the soft sounds of their mouths moving against each other cease, and he's starting to pull away.

Blue eyes open again, she watches Zuko's flushed face as he pins a stray lock of hair behind her ear, clearly unsure of what to do with his hands now that he's broken off the kiss. He's only 17-years-old, yet he's already such an anxious person. She can tell he's thinking too much, and he's withdrawing back into his own mind, away from her.

A bold thought crosses her mind, and she bites her bottom lip to stifle a grin. She thinks it over, and within moments, she's made up her mind. She'll treat him to something special, and see where he takes it from there.

She turns away, and Zuko's hand falls from her wavy hair. He looks almost disappointed, but she pushes the pang of guilt from her thoughts as she sets her plan into motion. Rolling onto her back, she peels her shirt off, exposing her plain bra. It's solid white and rather unassuming, but to be fair, she hadn't been expecting anyone to see her like this today. She tosses the shirt behind her, but she doesn't hear it hit the floor because she's too busy searching her boyfriend's face for a reaction.

Golden eyes flicker down to her chest almost instantly, and he swallows hard before looking away. He's propped up on his elbows, as if he doesn't know what should come next. She knows he just doesn't want to stare, but she can't help but feel a little insecure at his nonchalance.

His eyes move around the small bedroom in his uncle's apartment, and she follows his gaze to the small speaker on his desk. His phone is plugged in, and her favourite band is still playing. "I love this song," he murmurs, absently. "It reminds me of you."

Ordinarily, she would've been thrilled to hear that, maybe even going so far as to declare that this would be their Song. But Katara isn't in the mood to listen to music right now- she only chose this album to set the mood for a makeout session. She sits up and places a gentle hand on his cheek, trying to draw his attention back to her. The scar is thick and glossy over his fair skin, but the sight of it doesn't bother Katara anymore. It stopped being an issue for her when he stopped flinching at the contact. She doesn't know the story behind his scar- only that it's something Zuko absolutely refuses to talk about. Regardless, he seems to be coming to terms with old wounds. Katara couldn't have been any prouder at the progress he's made in not only the three months they've been dating, but also the entire time she's known him.

They met about a year ago, just after Zuko had moved in with his uncle and transferred to her school. His scar and bad attitude had immediately labelled him as an outcast, but Katara wasn't so shallow as to think there wasn't more to the mysterious new boy. In no time at all, they had become fast friends. And after confessing romantic feelings to him three months ago, only to find out he had been harbouring a similar crush, they had made things official.

Since then, they've been taking things slow. It had been just over a month since she had very politely informed him that most couples liked to kiss with tongue. He had been pretty humiliated, professing that he simply hadn't known.

"Zuko?" she says, and he finally looks back to her, mismatched eyes pointedly latched to her face. She reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra, hoping he'd indulge himself and take a look.

His breath hitches, and she practically preens as his gaze snaps to her bare breasts, dark nipples already hard from the cool air. She tosses the bra behind her, and she can feel her chest jiggle with the movement. He blinks several times, stunned, and his eyelids fall shut when he leans into her once more. His nose is in her hair, and a hand is wrapped around the back of her neck. He's breathing so hard, and he's clearly trying to rein in his desire, but Katara loves the effect she has on him. She loves his awkward intimacy. She loves him.

She twists toward him, capturing his lips in another kiss. The hand on her neck drops to her shoulder, and his fingertips tentatively explore her clavicle. The anticipation is killing her, and she wants him to touch her with fervour and passion and unbridled lust. She wants to see him flooded with teenage hormones, and she wants to feel him inside of her. But even more so, what Katara really wants is for him to feel comfortable. She wants him to know that he's safe- he's loved and his boundaries will be respected.

His tongue finally pokes into her mouth, and she slides it against her own. He's breathing so heavily now, but it's still quiet. By his very nature, Zuko is always a rather reserved person, much too mature for his age.

Yet she can't help but fantasize about his raspy voice whispering dirty things in her ear, and she wonders what kind of noises escape him when he pleasures himself alone. She wants to know what he's really like when he lets go of his inhibitions, and she wonders if he himself even knows.

"Can I touch you?"

She wants to scream in joy. "Yes," she tells him, unable to keep the giddiness out of her voice.

A small moan slips from her throat when his palm brushes against one of her stiff nipples. Perhaps emboldened by the sound, he presses her mouth a little harder. She runs a hand down his back. He shivers, but keeps going, and now she knows for sure that he's enjoying this.

They've never gone quite this far before, only ever making out when they're sure Iroh is too preoccupied to interrupt them. But Zuko's uncle is gone this evening, and Katara couldn't have been more thankful for the senior centre's pai sho tournament. As much as she loves Iroh, she also loves alone time with her boyfriend, away from the nosy older brother she shares a bedroom with.

Her fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt, skirting along the waistband of his jeans with an unspoken question. And after a minute, she dips a single finger beneath the cotton to stroke his lower back, and he breaks their kiss. "Do you… do you want me to take off my shirt?" he mumbles, as if he isn't sure why she would want such a thing. He plays with her brown hair again, eyes locked to her rounded jaw.

"I do," is all Katara can say, pulling her hand back to give him some space. "If that's okay."

"Yeah," he breathes, mumbling something about evening the playing field when he turns slightly to pull the garment over his head. She bites her lip, admiring the way his shoulders shift under too-pale skin, his body strong and firm. This close, she can see blemishes dotting his powerful physique, all of them related to the very faint scars along his hip bones. She pretends not to notice, though, and instead focuses on the way he's already sweating, and how he looks so damn good wearing absolutely nothing.

"You're so hot," she whispers, tentatively reaching out to touch his bicep. And she means every word.

"You're hotter," he tells her, the edges of his mouth quirking upwards in a soft smile. And he leans forward to place a tender kiss on her jaw, in the same place he had been eyeing just moments before.

"Mmm." Katara eases herself back onto one of his pillows, her free hand reaching for Zuko's other arm. "Kiss me?"

He pauses, then tilts his head upwards to comply.

"Kiss me lower," Katara clarifies, her voice pitched lower with need. "You can kiss me… well, anywhere." She bites her bottom lip again, hoping she sounded sexy. "You can touch me anywhere you want, Zuko." And she means what she says because she knows he never takes more than what he's given, if he even takes anything at all. "Please?"

He nods, cheeks still burning, but his eyes are heavy with desire. He kisses her jaw again, and slowly moves onto the crook of her neck. He leaves a trail of dry kisses down her torso until his lips are touching her left breast. His hand comes up to hover under the mound, kissing her skin once more before fully cupping her in his wide palm. He holds her in a timid grip, as though she's made of glass, but Katara can't complain.

"Yes," she hisses, trying and failing to contain her excitement. They've had this conversation a thousand times before. Physical intimacy is so important to her, and so fundamentally necessary to her as a person- yet she's often starved of touch in her relationship with Zuko. If she didn't bring up the topic so often, she wouldn't have even guessed that Zuko also craves sex. He's painfully respectful of her as a person, and especially as a woman. He doesn't stare at her like other boys do, and he certainly doesn't make lewd jokes or inappropriate comments. He doesn't grope or grab at her, like she's his property. Katara loves that about him- that he holds her in such high regard- but at the beginning of their relationship, it had made her worry if he was even attracted to her at all.

She's an open book, though. She's not afraid to ask, and with most topics, he answers her freely and honestly. That included the confession that, yes, he is insanely attracted to her. So much so that he couldn't bear to look at her during their Civics presentation last semester for fear of his stutter coming out in front of their class.

They're very communicative, one of the many perks of dating someone so mature. Yet he's always skirted around the subject of sex itself. He's only told her bits and pieces of his relationship history- only enough for her to discern that he's actually experienced the act before. She remembers asking him once why he was so hesitant to touch her, and his awkward admission that he was very inexperienced, and too anxious to start anything.

"I'm… I'm afraid I won't know what to do," he had said. Puzzled, she asked, "But it sounds like you've been with at least one girl before. So, why do you think you wouldn't know what to do?"

He had taken so long to answer her, that she had first thought he wasn't going to answer at all. But eventually, he put his face in his hands and mumbled, "A man. It was… a man."

Blinking back her surprise, Katara smiled. "Oh," she said, trying to act casual. "I didn't know you were-"

"I'm not," he said, simply. It wasn't defensive or even angry, as he was sometimes prone to sound. The statement was flat, but honest. And then he looked at her, for the first time during that conversation, and he looked so fucking done. Not with her- with life.

Like all he wanted to do was lay down and never wake up again.

"Then why did you-?"

"I… I was 10, Katara."

And Katara remembered the distinct feeling of horror rising through her stomach, and how the encouraging smile had fallen from her face in shocking clarity.

"I was 10, maybe 11 when it started. I was 13 when social services stepped in."

When the weight of his words finally hit her, she could only panic. She felt as though she had been physically struck through the chest with a lightning bolt. Who could do such a thing to a child? She had apologised repeatedly. She had fumbled for empty words of comfort, and put her foot in her mouth more times than she could ever remember doing before.

Then, she had felt devastated- inconsolable. She had cried herself to sleep that night, long after he left. No wonder Zuko isolated himself. He had been hurt, over and over again. He didn't truly know sex, or lovemaking- only pain, and misery, and force-

Then came the rage. Who would even dare to touch him, an innocent little boy? Who could even cross a monster of a man like Ozai, one of the most powerful and wealthy politicians in the nation, and get away with it? Ozai was untouchable, and his son should have been, too. Zuko should have been protected. He should have been safe, damn it!

And when Katara had finally put the pieces together- why Zuko lived with his uncle and not his father, the brief news bulletin about Ozai serving time in prison, the way Zuko would so often flinch when touched- she had felt numb. She hadn't wanted to feel anything anymore.

Had his father given him those awful scars, too? Even the one on his-

She couldn't stand the notion, or the feelings it ripped from her. She was too empathetic of a person, and it tore her apart inside to even think about his feelings when she couldn't even stomach her own. She had wanted to rip out her heart just so she wouldn't have to feel anything ever again.

And yet she couldn't stop falling in love with Zuko. His bright mind, sharp wit, dry sense of humour, awful jokes, adorably grumpy temperament, graceless social skills, mad determination, intense curiosity- speaking of which-

An experimental tug of her nipple brings her back to reality, and she grins breathlessly when she sees Zuko hovering over her. His gaze is fixed solely on her breasts, carefully hefting each in a hand as though to compare their weight. She can't help but find his fixation amusing, and she tries to stifle a laugh. Hearing her make an odd sound, he looks up, a red blush visible across his cheeks, down his chest, and at the tips of his ears. "Did I hurt you?" he asks, eyes wide.

"No," she assures him, still grinning. "You can be a little rougher, if you want. That kind of thing can… feel good there."

"Will you tell me if I hurt you?" he whispers, concern clear in his voice.

"Yes," she says. "But you won't hurt me. I promise."

He squeezes her boobs, watching in fascination as her dark skin seemed to temporarily overflow from his hands. Then his eyes dart back to her face, weary about her reaction.

"Mmm," she sighs in relief. She places a hand in his dark brown hair, combing the thick strands as he quickly familiarizes himself with her chest. "Keep going, keep going," she praises. He kisses one nipple, and then at Katara's encouragement, he gently takes one into his mouth. Her back arches, and he sucks a little harder. Her breasts are firm, but still pliable, and he can't quite keep his mouth wrapped around it. So, he swirls his tongue around her areola, and she practically melts beneath him. She mewls, and he gives her other nipple the same treatment.

Looking more confident, Zuko leans forward again, the bridge of his nose flush with the skin above her sternum as he pushes the mounds around his face. His eyes are closed, lips slightly parted in arousal, and he nuzzles into sensitive flesh. She can barely see him, but she strains her head down anyway, eager to watch her dreams come true.

Wiggling a bit from the wetness gathering between her legs, Katara feels something hard brush against her thigh. She thinks nothing of it until Zuko stiffens with a slight gasp, and she feels the temperature rise ten degrees with just the sound of his husky voice.

"Sorry," Zuko pants, and his hands are pulling away before she can protest. Katara sits up, trying to keep his warm palms on her chest, but her boyfriend is now out of reach. His bare chest is heaving, and he looks embarrassed beyond belief.

"Zuko," she says, but he's sitting up now.

Her mouth closes. She wants to say, "I like the feel of your hard-on against me." She wants to tell him, "I want you to want my body." She wants to confess, "I think about you, late at night. And I pretend my vibrator is your cock, and it gets me off every single time."

Instead, her concern overwhelms the naughty voices in her head. "Zuko? Are you okay?"

And he nods, adding, "Sorry. It's just… god, you're gorgeous, Katara."

"I am?" she teases. "But you haven't seen every inch of me yet." She's taking the lead again, treading carefully with the fragile trust he's placing in her. With a coy smile, she unbuttons her jeans. She makes sure he's still watching before wiggling her thick thighs out of the tight denim. She kicks them off, and they tumble from the queen-sized bed, joining their shirts somewhere on the floor.

"But if you don't want to-"

"Katara, I-"

He stops, realising they both spoke at the same time. He waits for her to start again, but when she doesn't, he tries to piece his thoughts together. "I want to," he says. "I want to, you know… see you. And touch you. If that's okay."

She reaches for his hands, and he allows her to move his sweaty palms to her curvy hips. His fingers ghost over her skin, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch. He surveys her body with great care, treating even the slight stretch marks on her side with reverence. Katara leans back onto the pillow, eyes closing as she basks in the new sensations. His fingers trace the same patterns over and over again, like he wants to memorize her skin.

She opens her eyes to give him a gentle smile. He gives a small one in return, his amber eyes softening as he lies down next to her. His hands leave her, and before she can beg him to keep touching her, he shifts onto his back and starts undoing the front of his own jeans.

Blue eyes wide, Katara can't help but stare at the tent in his underwear, only revealed when he finally wiggles out of his jeans. He rolls to his side, facing her again, and this time he visibly ignores the slight poke of his groin against her soft body. One of his hands is in her hair again, and she closes her eyes to lean in for a kiss. Their tongues meet, sweet and tender, and Katara feels so satisfied knowing she's the one who taught him how to kiss like this. And while Katara has had sex before, she's never made love, and she thinks maybe that's something she and Zuko can teach each other.

She catches his lower lip with a soft nibble before letting go, and when he moans in response, her panties grow a little damper.

She settles a hand on his side, careful to avoid the fingernail-shaped scars on his very grippable hips, and she plays with the rough fabric of his boxers. When his hand settles on her breast again, she plunges her hand under his waistband, sliding gentle fingers over his upper ass. He responds by copying her movements, inching his fingers beneath her cotton underwear. He freezes when she goes further down, fingers brushing his crack, so she quickly retracts her hands.

"I love your body," she murmurs against his lips, and the statement brings him back to the present. "You're so sexy, Zuko."

He loosens a little in her hold again. One of her hands returns to his chest, lightly scratching him until her long nails catch on a pale nipple. A small noise comes from his throat, and she runs her fingers over the rigid nub again.

"Katara," he groans, voice barely audible over the sound of their breathing. He slumps a little more, relaxing back into her touch.

"Zuko," she says. "I want you so much, Zuko."

"Can I… take them off?" he asks, pulling away from her mouth to eye her blue panties.

"Yes," she says, excited.

The mattress dips slightly when Zuko gets to his knees and shuffles down Katara's body. He leaves a loving kiss beneath her right breast, across her stomach, and over her navel. He hesitates, then kisses the line where her panties start and her torso ends. With shaking fingers, he rolls the scrap of cloth down her legs, watching as every inch of bare skin becomes exposed to the chilly air.

She has no hair down there, and Zuko's brow raises at the sight of dark pink, almost-purple flesh, slightly swollen with arousal. The hidden slit between her lips is soaking wet, and she's way too aroused to even think about being embarrassed by his intense gaze. Unconsciously, he ducks his head down, eager to see everything between her thighs, and Katara spreads her legs to bare all of herself to the young man before her. She giggles nervously, her abdomen jumping slightly, because it's so clear that this is the first time he's seen a woman like this. Sure, he's probably seen a few vulvas online, but it's not the same as looking at one in-person. She remembers very clearly seeing a penis for the first time in person, and how utterly unprepared she had felt.

He looks up at her, searching her eyes for guidance, and she motions with her arms to draw him back in. He carefully crawls up her body again, whimpering when the bulge in his underwear drags across her stomach. His eyes are tightly closed, and she hopes he's simply overwhelmed with pleasure and not pain.

"Are you alright?" she asks, arms wrapped around his back to hold him over her.

He takes a moment to answer. "Yeah," he mumbles, amber eyes open again. "It's just… a lot."

"We can stop anytime you want," she reminds him. "We don't have to do everything today, Zuko. We have all the time in the world."

Her words seem to have the opposite of their intended effect, though. His eyes glaze over with tears, and he looks away.

"Zuko," she calls softly. "What's wrong, Zuko?"

"I love you," he breathes, still avoiding her eyes. "I love you so much, Katara."

And then she almost cries, because she didn't know just how much she wanted to hear those words until this moment.

"I love you, too," she says, and their foreheads are touching, their eyes closed in an attempt to process the sudden influx of emotion.

"I want to make you feel good," Zuko adds, his low, rasping voice already sending chills down her spine. "I just…"

"I know," she says, even though she really doesn't. She tries to understand, though, at the very least.

He tilts his head slightly, lips ghosting over her chin. Katara angles her face to meet him, and they're exploring each other's mouths as though it's the first time.

He shifts above her, faltering on the kiss as he holds up his weight with a single arm. Katara tilts her head back to look at him, and she sees his other hand reaching between them. His erection bounces out of his underwear as he pushes them down, leaving Katara's mouth to water. With him between her legs, she's able to use her feet to help scoot the cloth down his body and off his ankles.

He's right in her face, and she can't see much of his body at the moment. But what she does see- the flushed cock hanging from his slender body, just an inch away from her own simmering skin- she loves.

He says, "I don't- I don't even have a-" He clears his throat, trying to gain some semblance of composure. "I don't have any condoms, Katara."

She smiles. "I always keep one in my purse, just in case. Let me up for a second?"

He scrambles off of her, and she can't help but giggle at his eagerness to please. She twists over the side of the bed, swiping blindly for her handbag. Her fingers hook onto the strap, and she pulls it up. She quickly finds the foil square and unceremoniously drops the purse back to the floor.

She looks over her shoulder to find Zuko stretched out on his side, one arm resting behind his head. His lean frame is spread on display, and her eyes can't help but linger over his defined chest, the subtle lines of his abs, and the v-shaped ridges of muscle that draw her eyes to his crotch. His black pubic hair is sparse and neatly trimmed around his base, but a little awry around his heavy sac, as if he doesn't quite know how to reach down there. She thinks his cock is heavenly, and she can see a bead of precome forming from the tip, the whitish fluid catching the light in a way that makes her want to dive for it. She's had her eyes on him for maybe a second, but she can already see ancient Greeks chiselling a sculpture of him from marble, so the world can worship this erotic sight forever.

She turns to face him again, and she has to remind herself to not get carried away in any fantasies just yet. She needs to play by his rules, or else they can't play at all.

"Do you know how to put it on?" she asks, holding up the condom. She tears the package open. "Or do you want me to-?"

He swallows, throat bobbing as his nerves come back. "I'm- I don't think I'm… quite ready yet." He winces in what she can only assume is more embarrassment, and Katara feels heat rushing to her face. "It's not, um…" he says, looking down at his cock again. She realises he still isn't fully erect, and that the condom will be difficult to roll on in his current state.

"Oh," she says, feeling a little foolish. She was the experienced one here! And she certainly hadn't been trying to make him feel bad.

"It's not you," he says quickly, eyes wide. "You're- your body is amazing! It's just-" He sounds frustrated with himself, and he looks away. "It's me," he says, his quiet voice full of self-loathing. "I'm… This happens sometimes, even when I'm alone. I'm sorry."

She sets the round latex on top of its packaging, and rests it next to a pillow, still within easy reach. "It's okay, Zuko," she assures him. "There's nothing wrong with you."

They're both silent for a moment, and then she says, "Can I touch you? Down there?"

He bites his lip, eyes roaming up to her face again, and he breathes, "Yeah. I'd- I'd like that."

She rolls onto her hands and knees, breasts swaying as she takes her time crawling over to his legs, and his eyes are glued to her body. His thigh twitches when she places a smooth hand on his leg, just above his knee. "Try to relax, okay?" she coos. "I want to make you feel good." He nods, and she skims her fingers through the soft hair dotting his skin. She rubs up his thigh, careful to avoid getting too close to his groin just yet. His muscles clench, and her touch lightens. "Do you... want me to stop?" she asks him. She doesn't want to stop, but she's willing to do anything for Zuko.

He licks his lips. "Don't stop," he breathes. "Please don't stop." At some point, he had propped himself up on both elbows to watch her, and Katara finds the sight supremely erotic.

She bends down to place a wet kiss just below his navel. Her loose hair brushes against his penis and he jumps at the contact. His eyes are closed now, face seemingly pinched in concentration. Katara slides the hand on his thigh up, listening to him hiss as she combs through his short, coarse hairs. And then her hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, and she thinks the contrast of her dark hand against his ivory skin will forever be imprinted in her mind.

"Zuko?" she asks, when she sees his eyes are open again, and he's staring at the ceiling, chest heaving. He doesn't answer her, and she pulls her hand away from his skin. "Zuko, are you-"

"Just give me a minute," he croaks, forehead already shining with sweat. She sits back on her heels, watching as a thick drop of sweat trails down his chin, down his neck, and it passes by a small nipple before disappearing into the bedspread. It hurts to know she can't help him right now, that all she can do is be patient.

The experience of survivors- though she thinks to herself that Zuko would probably hate to be called that- are all unique. She knows what topics of conversation will cause him to shut down, but she doesn't know any of his physical triggers just yet. They'll have to learn as they go. And she doesn't know quite what Zuko needs, how she can help him through the painful flashbacks, so she's just there for him. She hopes it's enough, but she also hopes that he'll tell her if there's anything else she can do to make him feel better.

"Sorry," he finally says, and his dick looks even limper than before, just barely sticking out from his body. "I'm sorry," he pants, covering his face with both hands momentarily.

"Don't be sorry," she tells him, gently prying his hands from his face. He looks at her with wide eyes, and she pushes the messy bangs from his face so she can see him better. "Just tell me what you want to do," she says.

"I don't know," he confesses, and it's a stark reminder that he's probably just as lost as she is right now, if not more.

She thinks for a moment. "What if you touch me first?" she says. "Or what if we… touch ourselves?"

His look turns intense, and she hopes it's out of interest and not alarm. "What?"

A little self-conscious at first, she shows him. Tossing her dark hair over one shoulder, she fondles her own breast. He's watching her closely, and her fingers get rougher as her confidence grows. She rolls a nipple between thumb and forefinger, and her other hand slides down the centre of her chest, down her stomach, and onto the smooth mound between her legs.

She doesn't have to ask if he likes it, because his cock is swelling again. He reaches out with a tentative hand to caress his lower abdomen, teasing the area just above his root.

Fingers itching for more action, Katara spreads her knees slightly, running a finger along the edge of her entrance. "I think about you a lot," she says, before she can stop herself. "When I'm touching myself."

"Yeah?" he presses, voice low.

"Yeah," she says, locking eyes with him. She didn't know she was such an exhibitionist until now, feeling so turned on by the sight of Zuko watching her touch herself. "I think of you at the MMA Club. Sparring, all sweaty and shirtless. And when my fingers aren't enough, I pretend my vibrator is your cock, and it makes me so, so wet."

His hand is sliding up his shaft, eyes still firmly on her when his fingers close into a loose fist. "I think about you, too."

This piques her interest. She brushes a finger against her clit, letting a soft moan escape her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," is all he can say. His breathing is heavy again, but each shaky inhale is smooth and deep with longing, not fear. She's keeping him grounded in this moment, and the relief that consumes her is intoxicating.

"Show me how you touch yourself," she says softly.

And his hand slides up his length, eyes fighting to stay open and on her body. His jaw clenches when he nears his glans, and he quickly moves down again, hips jerking slightly with the movement.

"Oh, Zuko," she pants, allowing a finger to slip inside of herself. Her pussy is soaking wet, and her finger glides in without a shred of resistance. She curls her finger, searching for that spongy texture just a few inches inside her. And she hits it, a desperate whine coming from her when the blunt fingernail bumps against her G-spot.

"Katara," he groans, stroking himself in earnest now.

"Touch me?" she asks again, hoping he'll oblige. "I want you so bad, Zuko."

"Come here," he says, his hand leaving his cock to gesture for her. His erection springs upward, bouncing slightly before it rests flush against his skin, and she knows without a doubt that he's fully hard now.

Eyes bright with exhilaration, she scoots closer, and they're both on their sides once more to face each other. Her breasts are pressed against his chest, and she puts a hand on his cheek to reel him in for a bruising kiss. He responds with matched enthusiasm, as loose and forthcoming as she's ever seen him.

She gasps when his hand slips down the slight protrusion of her stomach, and reaches the space between her thighs. He has a hard time kissing and exploring at the same time, but he's clearly trying, and Katara finds it hot. His fingers miss her clit, rubbing a random spot he probably thinks is the bundle of nerves. She doesn't say anything for fear he'll stop, instead letting him measure her lack of reaction. A few moments pass and his digits move on, travelling lower to spread her labia. He holds her open and runs a finger through the wetness there, and they both groan at the same time. He pushes at her with slightly more pressure, searching for an opening. He hesitates, then keeps going down. "It's lower than I thought," he explains lamely in-between kisses. She laughs and tells him, "You're so cute."

But she doesn't think it's cute when a finger finally dips into her hole, slow and shallow. She thinks it's amazing, the way he's teasing her without even trying. Her tongue is raking across his own, coaxing his fingers further into her with each thrust of her hips.

"Yes, yes, yes," she mumbles when his finger slides all the way in, and then a second one follows. He doesn't quite have a technique yet, and he can only pump the digits in and out of her with virgin determination. She loves every moment of it, because it's someone's fingers other than her own, warmer than her vibrator, and it's Zuko of all people.

She runs a finger around the perimeter of one of his nipples, and his tongue is in her mouth now.

Reluctantly, she pulls back to look at him. "I want you so bad," she says in earnest. "Do you- do you think you can?"

He just looks at her for a moment, dazed and confused with lustful eyes, and then he nods soberly. "Yeah," he says softly. "I- I want to try."

"I can put it on you," she says, reaching behind her to reveal the condom from earlier. She looks at him, her statement more of a question than anything.

"Yeah," he agrees, breathless. "Okay."

And when she grips the base of his penis again, he only flinches slightly. She hesitates, but he insists that she keep going. She strokes him once, then twice, and suddenly he looks like he's going to fall apart then and there, but in the best kind of way.

"Please," he croaks. "I'm going to come if you keep doing that."

She grins wolfishly before placing the condom on him. "I want you on top of me," is all she says, before rolling onto her back once more. Missionary is a classic. She wants to see his face. She wants him to be able to take control, or to be able to move away if he ends up needing space. She wants him to have the whole First Time experience, no matter how awkward it might be. After everything Zuko's been through, he deserves a bit of normalcy, and steamy-hot movie sex definitely isn't normal. She's happy to save her kinks for another time.

Because she sure as hell hopes they'll be doing this again.

He's in-between her legs, dick in hand and looking for her entrance. He's clearly not going to ask for a diagram or map, not when he's already lost the place so soon, so Katara coaxes him closer. She spreads her legs, and places a finger right above her opening. "I want you so bad. I want you right here. Inside of me."

He can only groan in response. Zuko was never very vocal to begin with, and now that his young brain is addled with thoughts of sex, he's even less coherent.

"Are you sure you want this, Zuko?" Katara asks, needing to make sure.

"I want this," he manages, reaffirming his consent. "I want you."

He rests his tip against her hole, and then pushes in at a snail's pace. He moans deeply, looking totally overwhelmed by the feeling of her tight walls clenching around him. He leans into her, their foreheads touching. She loves the feeling of his hot breath on her face, each desperate pant coming out in short bursts as he's trying to enter her slowly, as though it's her first time, too. But she's done this quite a few times before, and she's drenched with arousal, not to mention the condom's lubrication.

"Go for it," she says. "I can take it, Zuko."

But he doesn't move. He's halfway inside her, and that's when she realises she's misunderstood the situation.

"Zuko?"

He doesn't respond, and only his breath against her mouth lets her know that he's still alive and hasn't suddenly turned into a statue.

"Zuko-"

"I-" he starts. "I just need to-"

She wraps her arms around his neck, running a hand through his hair. She knows he likes that, because they've fallen asleep on Iroh's living room couch like that a hundred times before, curled up close with her fingers in his silky locks. The motion comforts him, and it wasn't until recently that Iroh told her why. Zuko's mother used to touch him like that, long before she became too ill to hold her children.

Zuko's hand reaches for one of her breasts again. And then he moves, and he's fully inside of her.

"Mmm," Katara says, nibbling on his earlobe.

"You're so-" he tries, but his voice is strangled.

He pauses again in his movements, eyes closed tightly.

"Talk to me," she pleads. She needs to know what's going on.

He shakes his head, as though shaking off a thought instead of her words. His arm is straining to hold his weight, and he has to disengage from her chest to keep from crushing her. "Touch me?" he says instead, echoing the very same words she's been telling him for the past half hour. "Talk to me," he adds.

"Distract me," is what she thinks he really means, but she's happy to oblige nonetheless.

She runs her hands up and down his broad back, down to his ass where she grabs his plump cheeks and holds him firmly inside of her. He moans, and rocks into her once, hitting her a little deeper, so she keeps going.

"I love you, Zuko," she whispers in his ear. "I love the way your cock feels inside of me. I love the way you touch me and the way you look at me."

She kisses his ear, his scar, his sharp jaw. "And I'm so glad you took Civics with me last semester, even if I had to beg you to, because I totally would've flunked without you."

He turns his head to laugh, his hair tickling her shoulder.

"I love you, too," he says, shivering when her fingers run around his sides and up his chest. He tilts his head towards her. And before Katara can move, he kisses her, tongue brushing past her lips.

She hooks her ankles around his waist, excited that he's found a way to take charge. He slides out of her a little before pushing back in, harder this time.

He's panting into her mouth, and Katara thinks she can't get enough of him. She holds onto him tighter and his hips jerk back and forth, and she's reminded of just how much rhythm he lacked on the dance floor at their Homecoming date a few weeks ago. He grunts into her mouth, and it's barely been a minute since he's started, but she can already tell he's so close. He's new to this, and he can't pace himself just yet. He doesn't know how to please her, doesn't know that she can't come from just vaginal stimulation alone, but she thinks she'll save that lesson for another time, because it leaves her quaking in awe just to see the most composed guy in her life so vulnerable before her. She wants this moment to be for him, to show him that sex can be so beautifully intimate in an unimaginable way, and that sex with her can be their love expressed in its rawest form.

He can't multitask. He's stopped trying to kiss altogether, and he's leaning back a little in an attempt to find a better angle inside of her. He's so lost in pleasure, his scarred eye is almost completely closed, and his good eyelid is low with satisfaction. His lips are parted, frozen in an expression of pure bliss. His pupils are blown and unfocused, so she feels no guilt in watching him strive for his climax, because he'll never know.

She thinks he's of average size, but he feels so big inside of her. He fills her just right, as though they were made for each other. She can't help but wonder, what with his natural inclination for learning and his freakish determination, just how good he'll be at this in a few months.

His eyes are turned down to some invisible spot on her neck, but she knows his concentration is on a whole 'nother plane of existence right now. Zuko's throaty exhales grow louder and louder, and his skin is almost feverishly hot. He comes without warning, crying out loudly, head jerking upwards and eyes closing. She feels his pelvis shudder against her pubic bone when he empties inside the condom. She wishes she could feel his semen spurting inside of her, so hot that it almost burns, but she knows he should start off learning some of the easiest safe sex practices before exploring other avenues. So she just holds him as his tremors subside. And then his eyes snap to hers and he looks horrified. "Oh god," he says. "God, Katara, I'm sorry, I- ugh." His head hangs, face hidden in shame as he pulls his softening cock out of her.

"Shh, it's okay," she assures him. "I still liked it.'

"But I-" he shakes his head, hair damp with sweat, and he still won't look at her. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asks, just to be sure they were both on the same page.

His arms fold, and he has enough sense left in him to not just collapse on top of her and crush her like her past two lovers have done. He eases himself down, his face pressed to her neck. "I came too fast," he whispers into her skin. "And I didn't- I didn't make you come."

"Don't worry about it," she tells him, and he rolls off of her. "There's always next time," she says, watching him fumble with trying to get the condom off without spilling it everywhere. He's terrible at doing laundry, and if anything gets on his blanket, Iroh is likely the only one who will be able to get the stain out. She can already imagine the poor old man trying to give his nephew The Talk, and how Zuko would probably blow up with anger in an attempt to preserve his dignity.

She had to admit, he's generally got a pretty bad temper. He snapped at her a lot when they had first met, and he still does from time to time without meaning to. But he doesn't shout at her, growl at her, or lash out towards her like he's still prone to do around others. Either he's becoming a softer, kinder person the more they grow intimate with one another, or that's who he's been all along and it's just that he's only now letting her see more of the real him. Nonetheless, this Zuko is all hers- this is the Zuko he doesn't share with anyone else, aside from his uncle on occasion.

Once the rubber is tied off and tossed away for later disposal, Katara cuddles closer to him, relishing in his warm afterglow.

"Wait," he says, seeming to have just realised what she said. "Next time? You want to do this again?"

"Of course I do," she says, pressing her nose to his chest. She loves his smell. He's sweaty and musky, with just a hint of bitter deodorant lingering under his arms. He smells like a real person- like a man- and she hopes he doesn't think she's weird for sniffing him when the sharp scent of sex is still in the air. "As long as you want it."

"I do," he says immediately. "I do."

And he buries his face into her hair, and she hides a smile in against his skin.


	2. Him

Katara knows exactly what she's doing, just like she always does.

She kisses him just right, her mouth hot and wet against Zuko's lips. He forces himself to relax. And eventually he does, because he loves the feel of her long eyelashes fluttering against his skin, the fresh scent of her hair on his pillow, and her kind hands wrapping around his neck to gain better access to his mouth.

She makes him feel alive, and he wants nothing more than to make her happy. He wants to touch her, he wants to hold her closer, but she seems so absorbed in the kiss that he doesn't want to detract from it. He settles for placing a palm against her curvy hip, careful not to let it slip too low and touch her butt. She must like it, though, because she snuggles up to him, and now their bodies are so close that he can feel the delicious heat coming off of her.

Zuko knows he's not a great kisser. Nobody's ever wanted to kiss him before, especially not the way Katara kisses. He's ugly, and the burned flesh on his face twists and pulls uncomfortably with each twitch of his lips.

So, his kisses are hesitant. He's slow and searching, focused entirely on what his girlfriend is doing and how he can mimic her movements. Her tongue enters his mouth, and he thinks he should be doing something with his tongue as well, but he can't remember what. She showed him how to do this just a few weeks ago, and they've been practicing quite a bit, but he just can't get into that rhythm. And he knows he's overthinking, because he always overthinks everything, but it's only because his mind comes back to the same thought over and over again.

Katara can do _so_ much better than him.

Her hand slides down his neck, coming to a stop on his chest, and his mouth falters in the kiss. Is she trying to push him away? He's obviously done something wrong. Now their make-out session is over, and the break from routine is jarring. Zuko needs routine, otherwise he feels like his life is spiralling out of control. And what's worse is that kissing Katara never feels like routine- it's never a chore. He loves spending time with Katara, and it never feels like time wasted.

He pulls away, a little angry with himself. He messed up, _again_. Why is he even surprised anymore?

She's looking at him, waiting for an explanation, but Zuko never has any answers. He pushes down his frustration, knowing that Katara doesn't deserve to be the outlet for his high-strung emotions. He needs something to do with his hands, he needs to fidget in order to keep his mind from wandering to unsavory thoughts, so he tucks a wild strand of brown hair behind her ear.

He loves her hair. It's thick and wavy, and he probably spends more time looking at her hair than any other part of her- even her beautiful face. And he knows that sounds bad, that he doesn't often meet his girlfriend's gaze, but he doesn't know what he'll do if he sees the disappointment in her eyes. It's probably there, of course, but it's another matter entirely to see one more loved one lose their faith in him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can tell that her expression changes, though, and before he can stop himself, his eyes dart to the plump lip caught between her teeth. Too quickly, she turns away, and Zuko thinks she means to leave. So he is entirely caught off-guard when she pulls her blue t-shirt over her head.

His brain kicks into overdrive. He wants to look, so, so badly, but he thinks he shouldn't. It would be rude, right? Should he leave, to grant her some privacy if she's going to change her clothes? He hoists himself up on his elbows. But before he can really decide on a suitable course of action, the shirt is gone from her hands, and she's looking at him, and he's looking at the tight, white bra wrapped around her chest, and he's frozen like an idiot. It's nothing too fancy, but then again, he never really thought Katara would be a lingerie kind of girl. It looks built more for comfort and support, and the thought makes him wonder just how big her breasts are if she's already worried about those things at just 16-years-old. And then he realises he's staring, and he feels disgusting.

Shame courses through him, and while it's a feeling he's pretty familiar with, it never gets easier to bear. So, he swallows hard, forcing himself to look away. His heart is racing, and he looks around the room, desperately trying to get the image of his shirtless girlfriend out of his mind. Of course he's attracted to her- who wouldn't be? But to show it so outwardly. That would make him perverse. that would make him no better than-

The speaker on his desk is still on, his phone connected, and the music plays softly. He says the first thing he can think of to break the awkward silence.

"I love this song," he says. And then his mind registers what's actually playing, and he realises it's Katara's favourite band. It's one of those cliché pop songs about overachieving, and reaching your wildest dreams, but it's not a bad one. It actually kind of reminds him of-

"It reminds me of you," he muses aloud. Katara is the definition of overachiever. She wants to be a doctor when she's older. She already volunteers at the hospital and several clinics in the area, and it's as though she can never get enough of helping others. She's the most selfless person he knows, and Zuko thinks that if anyone deserves to make it big in this cut-throat world, it's her.

A small hand touches his cheek, and it gently guides his gaze back to her face. He doesn't flinch, not anymore, because he knows she would never hurt him. It took them a while to reach this point, but he trusts her now. He trusts her with his life. And her touch doesn't hesitate at the twisted texture of his scar- which never ceases to amaze him, considering he can barely manage to look in the mirror every morning.

Some days he can't. And the days where he can't look at himself, well, those are the bad days.

Thankfully, today isn't one of those, and that's because he's been looking forward to seeing her all day.

"Zuko?" she says, and he looks at her, feeling a little more calm.

That is, until her bra falls away.

He doesn't remember when Katara's hand left his cheek, or when she reached behind her back to unclasp the garment, or where that thick piece of white cloth even went. All of a sudden, it's just gone, and he's taking in the sight of her magnificent breasts.

He was right. They're so much bigger than he thought they were, and her dark nipples are already standing at attention. He thinks he can fit each tit perfectly in his hand, and he clenches his hands to keep himself from trying. She moves slightly, and the motion makes each boob briefly jiggle, and the front of his pants grow a little tighter.

And then Zuko realises that he didn't do anything wrong. No, he must've done something _right_ for this to happen. He doesn't know what, but he's not going to press his luck.

He leans closer to her, eyes closing when the intoxicating scent of her skin hits him again. One of his hands wants to grasp a breast, but he suppresses the urge almost immediately. Instead, he lets that hand slide through her sexy hair, only stopping when he reaches the back of her neck. His nose is in her hair, and he's trying so desperately to not think about all the sinful things he wants to do to her.

She kisses him, and he almost groans. She wants him- right? He doesn't know, because he doesn't know _anything_. His body tries to draw upon previous experience, but that means he tenses up, ready for pain, ready for his half-hard cock to be roughly milked to completion while his father-

His fingers fall through her hair, and he says her name over and over in his head. Katara, Katara, _Katara_.

Katara smells like fresh rain. Katara's hair feels softer than the blankets beneath them. Katara's skin is smooth and dark, almost like the chocolate milk they serve at his new public school.

His hand slowly- very, _very_ slowly- moves down her neck, to finger her collarbone. It sticks out, but only a little. She's perfect in every way, with enough meat in all the right places- and Zuko cuts that thought off at once. Because she is so much more than a piece of meat. She's the most passionate, fiery, dedicated woman he's ever met. She's intelligent and brave and stubborn to a fault. She has strong opinions, and she's not afraid to voice them.

He just hopes he can please her.

When he slides his tongue into her mouth, Katara makes a little noise in the back of her throat. Okay, this is working. He can do this. His cock is somewhat softer now from the not-so-buried memories, but he thinks it'll be okay.

Katara, Katara, _Katara_.

All he has to do is ask. It's only four words, and he thinks she might just say yes. But if she says no, he's ready to pull his filthy hands right off of her, because she's too precious to feel pressured- too amazing to be made to feel unsure, too valuable to be broken like he was. All he wants to do is love her.

"Can I touch you?"

He wants to scream in relief. She said yes, and Zuko still can't believe it, but she gave her permission. The thought strikes him that she wants to feel good- she wants _him_ to make her feel good- and it's a thought he thinks he'll take with him to the grave.

His hand shakes when he finally reaches out to touch her breast. There are little bumps across the flat part of her nipple, and he loves the feeling against his palm- especially the stiff center. She moans, and he opens his mouth a little more into the kiss. He can't believe this is happening. _This is actually happening._

Out of nowhere, her hand runs down the center of his back, and he resists the urge to shrink back- or worse, snap at her. A shudder runs through him instead, and he can feel every hair on his forearms stand up in anticipation. She's touching the edge of his shirt, and she dips her slender fingers underneath the fabric. He thinks he understands, but he wants to be sure. He can't mess this up. He just can't.

"Do you… do you want me to take off my shirt?" he asks, burying a hand in her hair again. Having something to do with his hands is calming, and she understands this. His eyes fall down to look at one particularly lazy strand, stuck to the edge of her jaw, and he thinks about how much he'd like to have his mouth on that spot of skin.

"I do," she says. And then she quickly adds, "If that's okay." She withdraws her hand, leaving his skin oddly cold in the absence of her touch.

"Yeah," he replies, voice muffled as he hauls his own shirt off. "Let's… uh, let's even the playing field."

He feels heated under her gaze, and he's not sure if it's a good heat- like a sexy, being appraised kind of feeling- or a bad kind of heat- like she finds his body unappealing and she's trying to figure out the best way to let him down gently. Her blue eyes fall down his sweaty chest, over his pale stomach, and then through the dark dusting of hair that disappears into his low-slung jeans. He tries his best to stay still.

The scars on his hips are the worst- maybe even worse than the one on his face. Sure, the burn over his eye disfigures him almost beyond recognition of who he used to be, but it's so jarring that most people don't even want to ask what happened. Strangers stare, but don't comment on it. Acquaintances try hard to ignore it altogether, and that's fine by him.

The faded, half-moon shapes dotting the front of his hip bones are quite another story, though. They're unassuming in a way that makes people casually wonder aloud how they came about. These are questions Zuko doesn't want to answer, because that one lifeguard at the community pool doesn't need to know, and neither do the boys in the school locker rooms, or the nurse conducting his annual physical.

The stubborn scars show that he struggled- that he was held in place for an extended period of time. Long, strong fingers digging deep into his skin from behind, grasping at his skinny frame for leverage to keep from being kicked off... Zuko had felt the blood and semen trickling down his thighs in the minutes after. He had dealt with the lingering pain in his lower abdomen in the hours after. He had endured the discomfort in bowel movements for days, and had ignored the small anal fissures that took weeks to heal after every episode.

Yet he could see the deep scratches on his hips with his very own eyes, without meaning to, and somehow that makes it hurt so much worse.

So, when Katara whispers, "You're so hot," with a light touch on his upper arm, he thinks he could die happy.

"You're hotter," is the first thing he blurts out, and he softens the dumb response with a small smile. It's one of the smiles he saves just for her, because she's the only person in this Earth that he can truly be himself around.

Katara thinks he's hot! So yeah, right now, he feels pretty damn good. And he shows her. He leans in and brushes away that loose strand of hair from her jaw with his nose, and his lips take its place.

Her hand is on the back of his neck, and she's lying herself down in the middle of his bed like she's been naked in it a thousand times before. She looks like she belongs there, skin glowing brightly against the dark red covers. She drags him down as she reclines, letting him hover half on top of her.

"Kiss me?" she asks.

He dips his head, but she turns her face away at the last second, looking so damn playful that he can't even be upset. "You can kiss me… well, anywhere." She bites her bottom lip again, and he can hardly contain his astonishment. "You can touch me anywhere you want, Zuko. Please?"

Anywhere?

He knows many places he would like to touch her, quite a few places he would like to kiss her, and even one or two places he would like to stick his-

His train of thought comes to an abrupt halt, and he briefly scolds himself. She said kiss, you pervert. That's all. It's not that big of a deal.

But it's actually a _huge_ deal. He wants to say yes, and no, and is she sure. She's looking at him though, patient but expectant, and he decides to follow his heart.

He wants this, and she wants this. So, he nods.

Zuko takes a taste of her jaw again, testing the waters. He goes slowly, just in case she changes her mind. His lips move down her neck, suckling for a moment longer on that enticing spot where her neck and shoulder join. Moving back slightly, his lips ghost across her collarbone, and he can taste the remnants of her lotion. Her breasts are heaving, and he hopes he's making the right choice.

His mouth closes on the impossibly soft flesh of her left tit, once, then twice, and now he's holding her in his hand, oh-so-carefully because the last thing he wants to do is hurt her.

He feels moisture seeping into his underwear, his half-hard cock seeping precome, and he laps at Katara a little harder.

"Yes," she hisses, and her back arches, trying to press herself further into his tentative hold. He's never touched anyone like this, and to be honest, the act scares him a little. He holds so much power over her right now that it's actually _terrifying_. She likes it, though, and he wants to satisfy her. She deserves to be happy. And maybe he does, too.

Katara knows all this, of course. He gets annoyed with her sometimes, because she brings up the topic of sex so often. She's apparently horny all the damn time, and she can't stand the thought of pleasuring herself alone. She's been wanting to be intimate with him for a while, and she's working so hard to ease him into more physical displays of affection. He knows all her likes and dislikes by heart, because she's honest like that- that she enjoys holding hands in public, that she likes being the big spoon in private. She's painfully honest about everything, really.

For the most part, he is, too. He likes sharing pieces of his soul with her. Communication between them is easy, mature, and realistic. This is where most couples their age argue or have misunderstandings- because they just don't communicate well. So naturally, the one and only thing they've ever argued about is the one thing Zuko has refused to really elaborate on: sex.

In the beginning, much like any teenage boy, he gave her the vague impression that he had had sex before. Instead of impressing her or seducing her though, his goal was to placate her. He wanted the discussions of sex to fade until the act finally happened organically. It didn't work, though, because he had found himself unable to speak when the questions started. What is he into? Does he go down on girls? How does he feel about hickeys? Has he tried toys before? Would he be willing to tie her up and blindfold her?

So, he finally did the only thing he could think of. He fessed up.

"I've only… done it a few times," he had said. "I really don't know anything." More words had come out of his mouth, but to this day, he can't remember exactly what he said.

She said some things too, but the only thing he really remembers is the look of absolute horror on her face when he told her, perhaps a little too bluntly, that he had been raped.

And then the words just couldn't stop coming. She just had to know- he couldn't leave her looking so wrecked. He made sure she knew that he was- and still is- fiercely attracted to her. He wants sex, he needs sex, but he doesn't know if he can truly do it. But he will try.

He will try _anything_ for Katara.

So, he rubs her, and pinches her, and kneads her bouncing tits. She likes it, because she's grinning ear-to-ear, and she tells him to go even harder. He's afraid he'll hurt her, without meaning too. There's such a fine line between pain and pleasure, and Zuko knows it all too well.

"But you won't hurt me," she says, and he almost believes her.

He squeezes her in his hands, and he can feel the hard tissue somewhere deep inside each breast, but she doesn't look angry or scared or upset. She groans, so he keeps going. Her hands are in his hair, and he's so relaxed that his cock is slowly growing harder with each passing moment.

He makes out with one boob, accidentally leaving a trail of slobber across her nipple. "Ooh, put it in your mouth," she says. "Suck me. Ooh, suck it, Zuko."

The words are familiar, but the tone is so different that he actually wants to submit this time. He's licking her hardened nub, closing his mouth around it. It's more difficult than he thought it would be, but she doesn't seem to care that he's not the best kisser in the world. She's squirming under him, those beautiful fingers still sifting through his hair. Her nails lightly scratch his scalp, and the sensation transports him back to a time when he was younger.

Back when his life was great. Back when nothing really mattered.

And ten years later, his life is finally great again, but only because _everything_ suddenly matters, and he only matters at all because he has Uncle and Katara.

Alright, so maybe he gets carried away in his enthusiasm. He feels a little silly motorboating her like he's seen in dirty videos, but he has to try it just once. Her hips buck in response, and her thigh arches against his groin, and suddenly he can't breathe.

"Sorry," he says, pulling away from her. He probably looks like a fool, hair mussed, drool on his chin, and eyes wide with alarm. She reaches for him, but he leans away, way too embarrassed for one of her infamous pep talks.

He doesn't quite know why he's embarrassed- probably because that organ is such a private part of him, and it just _touched_ her. He can barely stand to touch himself in the middle of the night, softcore porn buzzing through his headphones, fist slicked with lotion (lotion that Uncle kindly bought for him after a rather awkward conversation about just how badly olive oil stains sheets).

This is a part of him that he doesn't like to share with anybody- not even himself. He takes care of his urges as though it's a chore. There is no real joy in it. Because the moment the dirty video freezes or ends, he hears his father's voice.

His gorgeous girlfriend sits up. "Zuko," she starts, and then stalls.

But this part of him is reacting to Katara. So, it can't be all that bad. Right?

"Zuko? Are you okay?"

Right?

He doesn't know, but he nods anyway, feeling sheepish for getting her worried. His girlfriend is sitting half-naked in his bed, and he is so _painfully _attracted to her. Hell, she probably doesn't even know how gorgeous she is, how confused she makes him feel, so he tells her. The first part- not the latter.

"...God, you're gorgeous, Katara."

"I am?" she says, as coy as ever. "But you haven't seen every inch of me yet."

He watches, jaw falling open as she slides her jeans down her lovely curves, leaving just a little blue triangle of cloth between her legs. She is literally wearing nothing else.

"But if you don't want to-" she starts, at the same time he tries to apologise. They both stop talking. He waits for her to finish, but when she doesn't, he realises she wants to hear what he has to say.

"I want to," he says, face open and earnest. "I want to, you know… see you. And touch you. If that's okay." He doesn't want to pressure her. He doesn't want her to feel like she owes him something. Because if anything, it's him who owes her everything.

They've talked about that before, too. She says it's unhealthy, the way he seems to put her on a pedestal sometimes. She says it's unfair to only see his worth in terms of how she feels about him. She's right, of course, because she's always right.

For a long time, though, Zuko struggled with knowing right from wrong. Frankly, after idolising his father for years, he's just happy to have chosen someone who makes him want to be a better man.

She places his hands on her hips, and he softly moves along her skin. He wants to make this moment last forever. He wants to see every stretch mark along her skin, he wants to feel every stray hair her razor missed, and he wants to know every ticklish spot that makes her giggle.

He just touches her for a while, and she looks content to let him explore. Zuko doesn't know where her erogenous zones are, other than her boobs and (presumably) her lady bits. He doesn't know how to make her feel good, or even where he should try. He doesn't want to take a chance only to find out he's overstepped some invisible boundary- because god only knows how many of those _he_ has.

She smiles, and he thinks he can be bold in another way. He returns the smile, resting next to her on his back. He's unbuttoning his jeans, hyper-aware of the semi bunched up at the front of his underwear. He rolls on his side to face her, and his covered dick actually brushes up against her leg again, but he pretends not to notice this time. Her eyes flash in amusement, like she knows exactly what kind of tough-guy act he's putting on.

Next thing he knows, his hand is in her hair, and her lips are on his. She bites his lower lip softly, and moans before he can stop himself. He saw that in a video once, and thought it was odd. But- just, _wow_. He supposes he should keep an open mind from now on, because having his lip bitten felt _hot_.

Her hand wraps around his lower back. The hand in her hair slides down her chest. He had been reaching for her boob, but now her hand is down his underwear, caressing the top part of his ass. He follows suit, eager to see where she'll lead them next. Her skin is so soft, but her ass is downright plush, and he touches her as she touches him, repeating her actions back to her. Light, tender fingers brush across the skin, and he didn't know he could be so sensitive back there.

Then her fingers slips.

His body is pulled taut, every inch of his backside tensed in alarm. _Too far_, something inside of him screams at the feeling of fingers against his ass crack. _No, no, that's too far. Not there!_

She must've sensed his reaction, because her hand retracts quickly, retreating to the upper part of his butt. "I love your body," she says, and the sound of her voice calms him. He remembers who he is, where he is, and who he's with. He's safe, and respected, because Katara, Katara, _Katara_-

"You're so sexy, Zuko."

His muscles ease, protesting slightly from being clenched so hard just moments before. Katara puts a hand on his chest, and he can feel his pulse racing through her own. Her hand shifts, a nail catching on one of his own pebbled nipples, and _god_, why has he never touched himself there before?

She giggles slightly at his reaction, and she rubs him again.

"Katara," he moans, pressing closer to her. Why does that feel so good?

"Zuko," she whispers. "I want you so much, Zuko."

He wants her, too.

He goes for it.

"Can I…" he starts, then his eyes dart down to look at Katara's last bit of clothing. "Take them off?

"Yes," she breathes, her voice low and husky with lust.

He surges to his knees, eager to please. He kisses his way down her body, reaching her navel much too quickly. He hesitates, then places a small kiss where the edge of her blue panties sit on her hips. He's so close he can smell her. If this were any other situation, he thinks that might be a little gross. Except this is sexual- very, very sexual- and there's something in her scent that makes him want to bury his face between her legs and never leave. He hopes she doesn't notice how his fingers shake when he reaches for the elastic around her waist. He pulls the fabric down slowly, trying to etch the sight of her bare skin to his memory.

Katara's pussy is smooth and clean-shaven. Her even, caramel colour melds into a darker shade down there, almost purple where a lighter-skinned girl may look pink. It surprises Zuko, and he can't help but think how stupid he is for not having thought to search for darker girls on the internet, because he's clearly been missing out. Where his cock always looks painfully red, almost angry with blood against his fair skin, her darker pigment leaves her genitals looking rather relaxed and inviting. The dichotomy of their skin colour leaves him a little breathless, and he thinks for perhaps the hundredth time that they complement each other perfectly. Her slit is soaked, dripping wet with clear juices that Zuko can't name. The flaps on either side look soft and malleable, slightly parted in anticipation, and he has the odd urge to tug on them.

Then her legs open wider, and it dawns on him that this is the first vagina he's ever seen. There's another set of lips on the inside, smaller and even darker. They're surrounding a small, wet hole, tucked safely away from prying eyes.

Except her legs are spread for him- she's baring herself to _Zuko_. He has the privilege to look upon her right now, and he has never felt more honoured in his entire life.

Then he feels his entire face heat up, because he probably looks like an idiot just staring at her. He looks up, ready to apologise, but the words die on his tongue when she gestures for him to come closer to her face. He does as asked, crawling up her nude body.

His cock drags against her stomach and he whines because the tip feels far too sensitive already. When was the last time he jacked off? He can't remember, and now he's paying for it, because there's no way he'll last long at this rate. A warm tingle is building through is stomach, and it's achingly familiar. It's hard to concentrate on anything around him, and that could quickly become a problem if he doesn't get his act together.

"Are you alright?" Katara asks, arms wrapped around his back to hold him over her.

"Yeah," he mumbles. His eyes are open now, but he doesn't remember closing them. "It's just… a lot."

"We can stop anytime you want," she offers, looking worried. "We don't have to do everything today, Zuko. We have all the time in the world."

All the time in the world.

He can't help the rush of emotions that threaten to overtake him, and he feels flooded with something he hasn't felt in a very long time. He looks away, eyes darting to the side. And he doesn't know what to do, other than say it.

"I love you. I love you so much, Katara."

She pulls his face against hers, their foreheads resting against each other, and their breaths mingling with her next words.

"I love you, too."

And he doesn't want to wait. Because who really knows if they have all the time in the world? Anything could happen, anything and everything _will_ happen, and he just wants to be happy for once. He wants to make _Katara_ happy. He doesn't have a lot to give, but it would feel wrong not to give her what he can.

"I want to make you feel good," he tells her. He's so fucking nervous. He can't keep it together. He can't even pretend to keep it together. "I just…" He trails off.

"I know," she says. And they both know it's a lie, that she doesn't truly know the emotions boiling inside of him, but it's the sweetest lie she's ever told because it somehow makes him feel better.

Their lips meet by some unspoken agreement. He's not holding back this time. His mouth is sloppy and his teeth knock against hers more than once. But it's by far the best kiss they've ever shared, because it's bold, and unchecked, and _passionate_.

He has to do it before he loses his nerve. He holds himself over her with just one arm while the other hand snakes down to his waist. He pulls his underwear down, dick flopping out, and her long legs help the cloth slide past his knees.

She's looking at him, mouth agape at either his impressive manhood or his sheer bravery. And while he kind of hopes it's the first, he knows it's definitely not the first. He's average at best, but his girlfriend looks thirsty enough to suck him dry. His cock twitches at the thought.

And then he thinks about fucking her, and his stomach drops with a very important realisation.

"I don't- I don't even have a-"

He clears his throat, trying to draw her attention back to his face. "I don't have any condoms, Katara."

She smiles. "I always keep one in my purse, just in case. Let me up for a second?"

He practically throws himself off of her, eternally thankful for her preparedness. Then she's turned away from him, bending over the side of the bed.

Zuko briefly wonders if she's even human, because he is absolutely hypnotised. Her long, dark hair is swept off to the side, leaving the luxurious curves of her back on full display. Her small waist flares out again to form her full hips, which frame a heart-shaped ass. And peeking out from between the back of her thighs, he can see part of her lower lips pressed tightly together, still so slick and sticky. The heat in his stomach coils, and he wants nothing more than to run the head of his dick through her wet folds before pushing in over and over and over again-

But then he remembers how his father never bothered to use a condom, and he remembers the sticky feeling of ejaculate against his asshole, and an ache forms in his chest.

"Do you know how to put it on?" she asks, tears the condom's packaging open. "Or do you want me to-?"

The arousing moment is gone, and he couldn't hate himself more if he tried.

"I'm- I don't think I'm… quite ready yet." He winces, sparing a glance downwards to confirm his current state. "It's not, um…"

"Oh," she says, noticing how his erection has wilted.

"It's not you," he almost shouts, eyes wide. "You're- your body is amazing! It's just-" He scowls, his voice bitter with familiar anger, and he just can't look at her. "It's me," he whispers. "I'm… This happens sometimes. Even when I'm alone. I'm sorry."

His face is flushed from the admission. The fact that he can't get it up is beyond humiliating, and it's even worse to have to say it out loud. The confession that this is a recurring issue for him, even when he masturbates, fills him with crippling shame.

"It's okay, Zuko," she assures him. "There's nothing wrong with you."

They're both silent for a moment, because he so obviously disagrees. And then she says, "Can I touch you? Down there?"

Zuko's heart clenches in both excitement and fear.

"Yeah," he breathes, voice husky. "I'd- I'd like that."

She's crawling towards him, and the sight is something he couldn't have come up with in even his wildest dreams. Her hair falls across her shoulders in waves, blue eyes trained on him as her nude form slinks across his bed. He tenses when a hand comes to rest on his thigh, and she must've felt it because she says, "Try to relax, okay? I want to make you feel good." And he nods.

Katara's warm hand is moving up his leg, and he wills himself to stay still. He wants her to touch his leaking cock. He wants her mouth wrapped around his glans, and he wants her breasts pushed up against his thighs while she sucks him. He wants to squirm underneath her while she fondles his balls, spilling his fire down her throat.

He wants her, but his instinct is to push her away, and he suppresses the urge. Instead, he sits up halfway, supported by his elbows to watch.

He twitches as Katara nears his groin, but she doesn't touch him there just yet, and for that he's thankful. He wants this so fucking badly- he wants Katara so badly- but some small part of him is terrified to go any further. He needs a little time to process it all.

Because every time his body feels this good, with someone else's hands on him, he ends up breaking down completely. And he just wants the emotional rollercoaster to end. He wants to leave the abuse behind and move on with his life. He doesn't want it to govern his every thought and action, and to keep him from giving himself completely to someone he loves.

So, he focuses on his incredible girlfriend, and the sight of her dark fingers following the contours of muscle beneath his light skin.

"Do you… want me to stop?" Katara asks, voice hesitant. He takes a deep breath, and then speaks honestly. "Don't stop," he breathes, heart pounding against his ribcage. "Please don't stop."

She kisses his stomach, and her hair falling against his erection. The touch sends his eyes flying shut, but this only makes him feel worse. With his eyes shut, it's so much easier for him to remember the feel of coarse facial hair against his skin, rough lips leaving bruises along his small body. And he doesn't want to remember any of it. So, he stares at the ceiling- which is so different from the ceiling of his childhood bedroom that he takes comfort in the sight.

He wants to make new memories. He wants Katara, his girlfriend.

_Katara_.

He hisses through his teeth when her hand closes in around his sensitive flesh. It feels so good, but almost over_whelmingly_ good, and he doesn't know how to handle it. He never feels this good, and he doesn't know how to handle it.

He hears his name, but he can't answer until she says it again.

"Just give me a minute," he manages between pants.

She waits, no longer touching him.

By the time he finally manages to get his emotions under control, his sad excuse for a dick is limp again, almost totally soft against his thigh. "Sorry," he says. And he feels like he doesn't have to say what he's sorry for, because he's sorry for everything that's so clearly going wrong. "I'm sorry," he repeats, covering the shame and frustration with both hands across his face.

"Don't be sorry," she says, peeling his fingers away to look at him. "Just tell me what you want to do."

He doesn't know if she's asking about more sex acts, or if she's expecting him to want to quit altogether. He doesn't even know what he wants right now, let alone what he needs.

"What if you touch me first?" she says suddenly. "Or what if we… touch ourselves?"

"What?" _Surely_ he misheard her.

But now she's touching herself, soft fingers playing roughly with one tit. She pinches her nipple, _hard_, and he watches in fascination. Another hand finds its way between her legs, and she's teasing herself with soft caresses.

Without thinking, Zuko touches his stomach. He lets his hand trail down the sparse hairs, stopping just above where his cock is starting to stick out from his body once more.

His eyes widen as Katara's legs spread, and she's rubbing one finger around her opening.

"I think about you a lot," she says. "When I'm touching myself."

"Yeah?" he says, fishing for more details. He swirls one finger across his skin, hanging onto her every word. He's so, so turned on right now. More turned on than he's ever been, and it's all because of her.

"Yeah," she babbles. "I think of you at the MMA Club. Sparring, all sweaty and shirtless. And when my fingers aren't enough, I pretend my vibrator is your cock, and it makes me so, so wet."

And he can see that image so clearly in his mind, only overpowered by the current show she's putting on for him. He watches her greedily as he starts to jack himself off, suddenly unabashed in her presence thanks to her own boldness.

"I think about you, too," he admits. Not often, because he thinks that may be too disrespectful, but it would be a lie to say the blue-eyed girls online never reminded him of Katara.

"Yeah?" she asks, moaning as her fingers move in a circular motion above her vagina.

"Yeah," he says, unable to truly form a sentence.

"Show me how you touch yourself," she says softly.

He tugs at the bottom of his shaft, not daring to near the head anymore. His skin is hot to the touch, and he grits his teeth together in an effort to stave off his impending orgasm.

She moans his name, and he sees one of her slick digits disappear inside her.

"Katara," he says, his grip tightening at the sight. He pumps himself a little faster, fully indulging himself now that she's clearly unabashed.

A moment later, she starts begging. "Touch me," she pleads. "I want you so bad, Zuko."

"Come here," he says, beckoning her over with his wet hand. No longer held, his cock springs back up, fully hard, and he feels a stupid sense of pride at the feeling. She crawls to his side, and they both lay down to face each other once more. Their bodies are flush against one another, and he can smell where Katara's fingers have been when she places a hand on his cheek. The scent of her drives him wild, and he allows himself to be pulled in for another passionate liplock.

He feels himself losing all inhibition, and his hand grazes down her torso, starting just below her breasts, down her stomach, and ending up at the apex of her thighs. He watches her face carefully for any sign of distress, but she nods for him to go on.

Zuko's index finger caresses that one spot above her opening that seemed to drive her wild earlier, but her reaction doesn't seem to change. Maybe it's the wrong spot? No, he's sure it's the right spot. His kiss falters a bit, and he tries a little more pressure, but he soon gives up and goes for his goal. They've gotten this far, and he can't let his inexperience and petty insecurities hold him back any longer. He just has to go for it.

They both groan when his finger reaches the thick fluid settling between her vaginal lips. His finger tries to inch in, but he's met with unyielding flesh, so he skates down a little lower. And lower. And-

"It's lower than I thought," he says defensively, before she can get a word out. Her breath puffs against his lips when she laughs and tells him he's cute. Some distant part of him thinks he should be offended, but the thought all but vanishes when his fingertip sinks into a tight, warm tunnel. Her hips press against his hand, urging his finger a little deeper, and he's completely taken with the sensation. It's _so fucking warm_, warmer than his hand, and so tight that he has no idea how the hell anything other than a finger or two can enter this sacred place.

"Yes, yes, yes," she says, when his finger finally bottoms out inside of her. He gives a few thrusts, trying to figure out if she'll simply stretch, before deciding to test it. Sure enough, a second finger goes in smoothly, the moistened hole eagerly accommodating the change in size. He works his fingers in and out, trying to hit that legendary spot he's heard referenced by the other boys at his school. He doesn't know if it exists, but he wants her to feel good at the very least.

Her tongue is practically wiping his mouth clean by now, and when she starts to tease his nipple with a short fingernail, he dips his tongue in her mouth as well. She scratches him lightly around the edge, and he hopes she doesn't hear the small whimper breaking from the back of his throat.

He's too dazed to notice she's pulled away from his mouth until he hears her voice. "I want you so bad," she whispers. "Do you- do you think you can?

He licks his lips, then nods, his giddiness melting back into fierce determination. "Yeah," he stutters. "I want to try."

"I can put it on you," she says, pulling the unwrapped condom back out.

"Yeah," he agrees, because he simply doesn't know how it should go on, ans pregnancy is _not_ something he wants to risk.

He groans when she strokes him once, then twice, and he doesn't think he can take anymore.

"Please," he begs, voice cracking. "I'm going to come if you keep doing that." She just grins. Why, that smug little-!

His amusement dies down a little as she pinches the top of the condom, and places the ring on the head of his cock. He flinches with the pressure it takes for her to slip the latex down over the bulbous tip, and she pauses.

"I'm fine," he hisses, before she can argue.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he insists. And it's mostly true. The sensation is just new and odd, but it's something he knows he'll have to get used to.

She watches him carefully as she checks to see if the rim is secure against his base.

"I want you on top of me," Katara says, flipping onto her back.

Zuko steps over one of her knees, sandwiching himself between her short legs. He's holding his cock, just staring at the wonderful place between her thighs.

It's time.

It's time, and he's still more terrified than he thought he'd be. He looks at her tight pussy, and he once again asks himself if he can really do this.

Why does he have to make everything so fucking _complicated_?

Thankfully, Katara makes the decision easier for him.

She spreads her legs, and places a finger right above her opening. "I want you so bad. I want you right here," she murmurs. "Inside of me."

He moans, the words to describe just how badly he wants her simply not enough. He wants her, and she wants him, and damn it- damn it, that's enough.

It'll just have to be enough.

_He can do this._

"Are you sure you want this, Zuko?" Katara asks.

"I want this," he croaks. "I want you." And without further delay, he places the head of his cock against her inner folds, and he leans forward, pushing slightly with his pelvis.

He feels like his penis is being swallowed up by her warmth. It doesn't take much work at all to enter her, because she's already so enticingly wet that drops of her juices are smeared against the barely-visible bedspread beneath them. A guttural sound is ripped from his throat, and his eyes almost roll back into his head. The pressure around his glans is almost suffocating, but in the best way possible. The ache in his cock is pushing through his entire body now, as though his heart is beating from where their bodies are joined. He trembles slightly, his brow furrowing at the deep relief he already feels from just barely entering her.

The feeling is… _indescribable_, really. He now knows why everybody talks about sex. Of course everyone wants to feel this good.

And then a truly twisted thought hits him. He used to make his _father_ feel like this.

He dips forward, resting against Katara's forehead as his mind grows heavy with the realisation.

Rape isn't about this feeling- about sexual desire and fulfillment. Logically, he knows this, because his uncle has taken him to several therapists, and even a few psychologists, and they've all told him pretty much the same thing. It's not about sex, they always say. His father's abusive acts were about power. It wasn't anything Zuko did wrong, they say. It was about control, and anger, and depravity.

But to end up taking pleasure in such an act… Now that he's experienced the incredible feeling of being inside someone, he doesn't know what to think. His father ultimately wanted Zuko to suffer, and the sexual gratification on his part was just a plus, and that thought makes him feel _sick_.

The hard throbbing between his legs is now a hardness settling in his stomach, and he feels like he could throw up.

Katara is calling his name. She's worried, and he's not answering. His only saving grace is that his body has never known such an intense climb in physical excitement, so he stays hard inside Katara while he reassures her.

"I-" he starts, but the words don't quite come out. "I just need to-"

Need to what? He's swallowed the bile, and he's swallowed the memories, but now he has to move. He has to do _something_. Sex is so much more than just sheathing himself two inches inside another human being. There's more movement, more emotion, more... _something_, surely. Alright, so he still doesn't really know, because he's never done this before. But he's here because he's in love, and he so desperately needs Katara to know just how in love with her he is. It's intensely physical, yes, but it's also so much more emotionally gratifying than Zuko thought it would be.

Her hands are in his hair, and the affection with which she's combing through his sweaty locks brings his chaotic mind down to a slow simmer. The sensation tugs him away from his thoughts, and he's able to hear and see and feel again. He's back in the present moment, and he shivers slightly when her fingernails graze his scalp with a little more pressure.

His breathing isn't quite normal again, but he doesn't think it should be. He thinks it's right where it needs to be, just as he's right where he needs to be. This is sex, but it's also making love, and it's going to take effort, but he's thinks that's okay. They can make this work.

Supporting himself with one strong arm, he gropes at her chest, and he gives an unsteady thrust inside of her.

A soft moan reaches his ears. Then a cool tongue traces the outer shell of his mangled ear, and Katara is gently biting the lobe.

"You're so-" he tries to say. But she's a lot of things, and in trying to say them all at once, none of them make it out of his mouth. She's so beautiful. The way her warm walls contract around his shaft, the way her teeth tickle his ear, the way her chest ripples with each of his movements.

She's so _perfect_.

He pauses again, the mental exhaustion hitting him all at once. He doesn't know how to think anymore, and at the same time, he doesn't know how to stop thinking. It's all suddenly too much, and he can feel his heart tighten with fear.

"Talk to me," she says, but he doesn't know if he can. Everything was fine, and then it just- then it just _wasn't_. And he can't handle it. He doesn't know how to handle it. All of these new feelings, on the inside, and on the outside, and-

The arm supporting his weight trembles, and he has to leave his hold on Katara's body to keep himself raised a few inches above her.

"Touch me," he mumbles, his voice hoarse and distant. He thought thinks he sounds pathetic. "Talk to me."

Her hands drift down his back, and she grabs a handful of his ass, careful to keep her fingers to the outside of his cheeks. She holds him closer to her, his erection now fully inside of her. Unconsciously, he makes a contented sound.

"I love you, Zuko," she whispers in his ear. He can just barely hear her through his headache. He focuses on the sound of her voice, and he faintly thinks she sounds like water gliding over smooth stones, and it soothes his soul.

"I love the way your cock feels inside of me," she continues. "I love the way you touch me, and the way you look at me." She kisses his ear, his scar, his sharp jaw. "And I'm so glad you took Civics with me last semester, even if I had to beg you to, because I totally would've flunked without you."

He turns his head to laugh, his overgrown bangs briefly covering his eyes.

"I love you, too," he says, turning to her. He shifts a little when her fingers run around his sides and up his chest, like a dog pushing into the hand of someone eager to pet them. He tilts his head towards her, and before Katara can move, he kisses her first. His tongue nudges past her lips, and he can feel her back arch in surprise.

She hooks her ankles around his slim waist. He slides out of her a little before pushing back in, harder this time.

He's panting into the kiss, and his primal instincts are slowly taking over- not his learned ones. He doesn't freeze up. instead, his hips jerk back and forth, and the delicious slickness of her pussy is exactly what his dick has been waiting for. His lips have stopped moving properly, as though all of his brain power has been diverted solely to his groin. His mouth is sloppy against hers before he stops trying to multitask altogether. His back is a little straighter, a little higher, and he's searching for a better angle to bury himself deeper inside of her.

He can feel it. He's so damn _close_. His eyelids are heavy, and his vision is blurred with the heady scent of their sweat. His jaw falls open, mouth slightly scrunched into an o-shape.

Zuko's never really vocal when he touches himself alone, but being with Katara always brings out his wild side. He's making noises now that he's never heard himself make- embarrassing ones. They're coming out in quick, needy exhales, higher and higher in pitch while he works towards his climax. He reaches the edge, and it's like the world just stops spinning for a moment.

And then he's tumbling straight over that invisible cliff, first in slow-motion. Then he comes crashing down at an intense, but graceless, pace. Eyes closed, he practically shouts when his burning-hot jizz finally splashes into the condom. He convulses inside Katara, and her tight walls seem to squeeze every last drop from the longest, fiercest orgasm he's ever had.

He shudders when his head clears from the high, and that's when the mortification hits him.

Katara!

"Oh _god_," he says, utterly appalled. "God, Katara, I'm sorry, I- ugh." He hangs his head, eyes hidden in shame as he quickly pulls out of her.

"Shh, it's okay," she assures him. "I still liked it."

"But I-" he shakes his head, face burning red with both humiliation and exertion. He still can't look at her. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

His arms are burning, and he can't hold himself up anymore. He settles down next to her, pushing his face into the crook of her neck in a weak attempt to try and hide from her.

"I came too fast," he tells her skin, his raspy voice thick with shame. "And I didn't- I didn't make you come."

He's an awful lover. How could he just forget about her like that?

"Don't worry about it," she tells him, not sounding bothered at all. "There's always next time." But he's so busy trying to pull the condom off without letting his jizz tumble out, that he almost doesn't hear his girlfriend's words. He ties the end of the latex like a balloon, hoping that it's the right thing to do, and he flings it to the floor to take care of later.

"Wait," he backtracks, realising what she said. "Next time? You want to do this... again?"

"Of course I do," she says, pressing her nose to his chest. He cradles her closer, she adds, "As long as you want it."

"I do," Zuko says immediately, his heart swelling with pure, uncomplicated happiness. "I do."

So, he buries his face into her neck, hiding a smile in her hair.

"I love you," he mouths, before pressing a small kiss on the top of her head.

Loving her is simple, easy, and freeing.

They lay there for what feels like forever, and the silence is comfortable while they start to fall asleep.

In the moments before Zuko loses consciousness, he doesn't fight it. Instead, he thinks about how much he's looking forward to waking up next to Katara.


End file.
